Family Name
by Eponymous
Summary: First Name: Shayla. Last Name: Shayla. Question: Why?


Family Name  
by Eponymous  
  
Hey, the idea's to get the food in your mouth, ain't it? Ya don't   
hafta start bitching just 'cause I can do it faster. C'mon, hurry up   
before one of the matrons comes by and finds this.  
  
It's food, okay? You wanna go back to the kitchen after hours yourself   
and steal something a little more refined, be my guest! God, of all   
the roommates in the Seminary, I gotta get stuck with the finicky   
eater...  
  
Ha, look who's talking! What the hell kind of name is Mann, anyway?  
  
Ohhh... Oh, I get it now. Yeah, you're from one of those Old Way   
families. Lot of them up in those parts, ain't there? Lemme guess, you  
grew up with a half dozen servants in a house that's older than dirt.   
Lucky you. Me, I woulda been lucky if my house was made of dirt.   
Probably woulda made it worth more than everything else we owned put   
together...  
  
Aah, but what the hell, I got out, didn't I? Got inta the Seminary, did  
my years as a novitiate, finally got bumped up to apprentice this year.  
Did the whole damn course, too, not like some of us. Never skipped a   
class.  
  
Class, year, whatever. Look, let's just finish up here before anybody   
comes by and-   
  
I am not changing the subject! God, I can't even have a conversation   
with you, can I? It's just a name, already! What difference does it   
make?!  
  
"Bothers" me? "Bothers" me? Alright, you wanna know? Fine. Look,   
pay attention, I'm not gonna go through this two times with you.  
  
Like I said, things were rough where I grew up. The shack we hadda live  
in really woulda been better if it'd been made of dirt. Sure as hell   
woulda been sturdier. Guess it was a good thing we were near enough to   
the desert. Nights out there were bad enough, the whole place woulda   
frozen over if we ever had a real winter.  
  
Man, I can see why you get the high marks. Yeah, it was a border town.   
Great place to live. Only traders we ever got out that far were petty   
merchants on their way to God knows where. Crazy bastards charged a   
fortune for the measly bit of food they sold. An' by the time the   
Royal Aide Distributors got out that far they were pretty much tapped   
out. Most people hadda grow their own crops. That was a helluva lot   
of fun in our climate, I can tell you.  
  
Most of my life there was just the four of us out there, tryin' to   
scrounge together enough to keep from starving: Me, my folks, and my   
sister, Shayla.  
  
Hey, are you gonna let me tell this story or not?  
  
Shayla was my kid sister. She didn't come along for a while after I   
was born. Way I figure it, I wasn't supposed to come along in the   
first place. My folks were too young or too poor when they had me, I   
guess. All I remember is food gettin' to be a luxury. I got fed maybe   
four times a week, and those were the good weeks. 'Course, compared   
to most of the folks in my village, we were a picture of wealth,   
'specially those first couple years. I never met a kid too close to my   
age in our village, an' I don't think it was because of a sudden wave   
of chastity way back when. Aah, don't look so shocked. You grow up in   
some ritzy city you forget this kinda stuff's happening all the time in   
the border towns.  
  
Mostly, I'd hunt up my own food. Got to be pretty good at picking out   
the good plants from the bad, and I could snag a frog at half a mile.   
When I got older I started scavenging for stuff t'sell those crazy   
traders, use the cash to buy food off the ones that had it. Some great   
idea *that* turned out to be...  
  
Like I said, I wasn't supposed to come along. My folks weren't   
supposed to have an extra mouth to feed, so most of the time, they just   
didn't feed it. Far as they were concerned, I was like some cat that   
wandered in that they weren't allowed t'get rid of. Why else d'you   
think I started scavenging so young?  
  
'Course, when they saw I was turning a profit, hell, then it was whole   
other story. All of a sudden they had me out there scavenging every   
day, sendin' me to sell to the traders every time one was in town - I   
knew how to talk to 'em, so they left that part up to me. Watched me   
close whenever I got back, though. Made damn sure I wasn't holdin' out   
on 'em. They started feedin' me a little better than before, I guess.   
Makin' sure I didn't die and put 'em back where they started. I woulda   
ate a lot better if they weren't takin' so much of what I made, though.  
  
Hell, of course I didn't put up with it! First chance I got I took off...  
Yeah, to the Seminary. I never even got outta town. Dad tracked me   
down, dragged me back home. They weren't about to let me get out of it   
that easy.  
  
Nah. I'd almost be happier if he woulda tried. Instead it was like I   
wasn't even worth the trouble to beat up. He just dragged me back,   
pulled me the whole way through the dirt. Even when I tried to bite him  
or kick him or something, he'd just drag harder. Finally he plunked me   
back at home and told me to get back to work. Didn't even lock me   
anywhere, just told me he could track me down again if he had to. Turned  
out he was tellin' the truth, there.  
  
So I just kept workin' for 'em. Had to. They wouldn't let me leave, an'  
I hadda eat, an' they knew it. Just like they knew they could take   
whatever I brought in scavenging from me, bastards.  
  
Your family, they're supposed to look out for you. They're supposed to   
care about you, stick by you even when nobody else does. They're   
supposed to fucking LOVE you, and you love them. That's what it means.   
But instead, what'd I get? I get stuck with a couple'a slave drivers   
who couldn't farm their own damn land right and needed me to keep 'em   
from sellin' themselves down the river to some passing whacko with a   
caravan. Hell of a great time that was. Instead of bein' a stray they   
took in, I got to be livestock.  
  
Finally, after dependin' on me for so long, we finally got a year where  
Dad managed not to kill the whole crop off in advance. That's when   
things got *really* fun. 'Cause between that and what I was bringin'   
in, we were looking at enough to feed a family of three, and that meant   
my folks got to do something they'd been wantin' to do for a while, now.  
  
They get to have a kid.  
  
Yeah, that's right. Shayla. One of the clearest memories I have? My   
mother looking all excited and telling some neighbor of ours, "I'm going  
to have a *daughter*!"  
  
You kidding? I oughtta be that lucky. Nah, they were my folks all   
right. Everybody knew it. Probably the only reason they kept me   
around before they found a way to put me to work for 'em. Peer   
pressure.  
  
But Shayla, they *worshipped* her. Anything she did, they told her it   
was wonderful. Didn't matter what, she'd move her foot and they'd be   
right there dotin' on her, telling her what a smart girl she was.   
Anything she said, they wouldn't shut up about how cute it was.   
Anything she wanted, they gave it to her. Anything else they could   
think of, they gave her that, too. An' if it'd happened to belong to   
me before, well hell, now it didn't anymore.  
  
Oh, you *bet* I raised hell about it. But you think Sister Tira's stony?  
You ain't seen nothin'. Half the time they didn't even bother to notice  
I was there, 'less it was to tell me to get back to work. Other half   
they'd just say something like, "Shayla needs it more than you do."  
  
"Needs it more than you do." When she was one they gave her one of my   
shirts to tear up 'cause she looked like she liked pulling threads outta  
stuff. Woulda given her my other one if she hadn't gotten tired of   
it, too.  
  
I hated that kid. I mean, I *hated* her. She had everything I shoulda   
had, and she didn't even hafta fight for it. But to my folks, it was   
like I never even deserved any of it to begin with. Those were her   
clothes, it was her food, it was her room. Always had been. I wasn't   
supposed to come along, remember? I was a mistake.  
  
Shayla they planned. Shayla they wanted. Shayla was the one that was   
supposed to be there. Me, I was just an accident, and they sure as   
hell weren't gonna let some stupid screw-up like me leech off their   
daughter just 'cause I happened t'be their daughter first. Hell, no!   
They were gonna make sure I gave her everything I had, an' worked hard   
as I could for her. Made it up to her for bein' born.  
  
After that, they *really* started gettin' their money's worth outta me.   
Had me workin' as their pack mule, their maid, their farmhand, whatever   
else they could use me for. All so they could make a perfect home for   
their precious Shayla.   
  
I never even went inta their perfect home if I could avoid it. Stayed   
out all day scavenging, or just avoidin' the place. Hadda sleep in   
there at nights, 'course. They left me in Shayla's room. Gave her   
the bed, o'course. Tiny thing, only good for one. If it weren't they   
woulda fenced it off or something. Didn't matter ta me, though. I   
already scavenged up a mattress and blanket on my own. They were   
filthy things and fulla holes, but they were mine. Sometimes I'd get   
in early and she'd still be awake, start askin' me all these stupid   
questions until she fell asleep. I never bothered to answer any of   
them. I didn't wanna talk to her. I didn't even wanna look at her.  
  
That was around when the Angona Fever broke out. You musta heard about   
that even where you come from... Yeah, the epidemic. People dropping   
like flies everywhere. I remember Shayla coming home crying one day,   
'cause some guy she'd only met once died from it. Mom told 'er not to   
worry, Shayla wasn't gonna get sick like that. She probably even   
believed it. Of course Shayla wouldn't be touched. Not her, she was   
too perfect, too pure for some stupid disease to even get near. Even   
if the fever wasn't around, I still woulda felt sick.  
  
Medicine, right. Yeah, well that was great for everyone in your part   
of the country, but out where we were? Like I said, anything they were   
distributing started runnin' low a long time before it got to us.   
Practically none left by the time they sailed inta our town. Hadda   
ration it. Maximum of three doses per household.  
  
I only found out later, 'course. Distributors came by all quiet-like.   
They didn't wanna raise a panic, I guess. Didn't matter much, pretty   
much everybody was in the first stages by then. But they swung by our   
place and handed out those three doses to my folks, then just left   
without a word. I remember Shayla askin' who the nice men in the funny   
outfits were. Dad made up some stupid lie, I forget what. Wasn't   
payin' attention, really.  
  
So that's where it stood. Fever's everywhere, and everyone's got it.   
My parents have the cure. Three doses, four of us. Two of us just   
kids, and we don't even know there is any medicine. Disease is   
everywhere, so whoever doesn't get the stuff is as good as dead. Tough   
decision, right?  
  
Shit, you haven't been listening to this story at all, have you?  
  
That night my parents made up a "special broth" for Shayla. Wasn't any   
big deal to her, they were always throwing stuff like that her way.   
Me, I couldn't stand it. All this crap going down outside, an' they   
didn't even seem to care. People dyin' out there, just gettin' left in   
the street for hours sometimes, and all that mattered to them was their   
special, wonderful daughter gettin' an extra cup of some damn soup. I   
don't think I'd ever been madder at them before that.  
  
They told her to make sure to drink it all up like a good girl and sent   
her off to bed with it. I dunno, maybe they were too damn cowardly to   
watch her guzzle any hope I had of surviving away. Out of sight, out   
of mind, they figured. They probably really woulda felt surprised when   
I started gettin' sick, even.  
  
A while later we're back in our room. Her room. I'm crashed out on my   
mattress in the corner, starin' at the wall. I figure Shayla's all   
done with her soup by now, so I take a look. Figure I'm gonna hafta   
haul her dishes out to the trough and rinse 'em, like I always did.   
Thing is, she hasn't touched it. Isn't even makin' to. She's just   
sittin' on her bed and looking at me.  
  
She... she looks at me, and she's just this... she's this little kid,   
but she knows I'm upset about something. I haven't said anything or   
done anything, or even acted any more pissed off than usual, but she   
looks at me, and she knows. She climbs outta bed and walks over to me,  
and she holds out the cup. She says I can have it.  
  
I damn near knocked the thing outta her hands. I was gonna. That   
woulda fixed things pretty good, wouldn't it? But right then I look   
at her, and she's just standing there, holding out that cup, and it's   
like...  
  
It's like I said, I never really looked at her. Didn't want to. I   
was so used to hatin' my folks I just figured she was the same as them,   
you know? All that time they were tellin' her she was special, and   
different, and wonderful and better than me, I figured she hadda   
believe it. I mean, who hears that all their life and doesn't believe   
it?  
  
But she didn't, you know? I could see it, right then. In her eyes.   
She's... She's givin' this to me, and it's not 'cause she pities me, or   
she looks down on me, or anything. She just... she knows I'm upset   
about something, and she thinks it'll make me feel better. She wants   
me not to be sad.  
  
I said, fine, whatever. I drank the damn stuff. She watched me, and   
she started smiling. And that smile, it... it was like... When I   
finished that stuff I wanted to retch but, I ended up smiling too,   
y'know? 'Cause she was smiling.  
  
Last night of good sleep I had in a month. She got sick practically   
the next day. At first my folks thought it was just taking time for   
the stuff to kick in, but pretty soon they started gettin' worried.   
Started asking her if she drank the broth. Made a really big deal out   
of it, did she drink the broth like they asked her to? She looked at   
them, really insistent-like, and said that she did.  
  
She didn't want to get me in trouble, y'see.  
  
Me, I felt fine. I kept thinking I was gonna get sick next, but   
nothing happened. And they kept asking her and asking her if she drank   
the broth. If maybe she forgot or something, if she only thought she   
did, because she was so sick and not remembering right. But every   
time, she told them she did. She was the one, she drank the broth,   
just like they wanted. No matter what happened, no matter how bad it   
got, she kept right on swearin' to them she'd done it. Right up to the   
end.  
  
Didn't take me too long to figure out what happened.  
  
But my folks, they never did. Far as they were concerned, their   
perfect daughter couldn't lie to them. Thought it musta been bad   
medicine or something. Something musta gone wrong, that was all. The   
fever was too strong, or the medicine didn't work for her, but she'd   
never lie to them, not about this, not to protect a nothing like me.  
  
And Shayla... she didn't figure it out either. The way they were,   
dotin' on her more than ever, and she couldn't even tell the   
difference. Probably she... she was too far gone. I could tell, I   
could recognize it. I knew. But she... all she cared about was makin'   
sure they didn't know I had a damn cup of soup! She just... she...  
  
The HELL I do! It's shouldn'ta been ME! It shouldn'ta been EITHER of   
us! It never shoulda even COME to that! If they'd been any kinda   
parents they woulda given up one of their doses so we BOTH woulda made   
it!  
  
But they didn't. Oh, no. And after it was over...  
  
I never thought I coulda hated them more than the day we buried her.   
There they were, standing there healthy as can be, surrounded by all   
other folks from our village, soppin' up sympathy and attention like   
there was no tomorrow. Practically everybody else lost somebody to the   
fever, but the lot of them all showed up to tell my folks how bad they   
felt for them. They were the special ones, see. Outta the whole   
village, they were the only ones to lose a child.  
  
Buncha backwoods idiots never even figured out why that was.  
  
I just stood there with 'em through the whole service, tryin' to ignore   
'em, to pay attention to what the speaker was sayin' about Shayla.   
They took a collection for her, but the village was so poor all they   
could come up with was a blank marker. They put it at the end of our   
field, only place we had to bury her. Just a banged-up piece of rock.   
The speaker said, "This stone is unmarked, as a challenge to you to see   
to it that Shayla is remembered instead in our hearts every day."  
  
Flimsiest damn excuse I ever heard.   
  
But that's not the capper. 'Cause the next day, just when I think I   
can't hate my folks any more than I did at the funeral... The next day   
they loved me.  
  
I wake up in the morning, get ready to head out - I was still doin' my   
rounds, habit I guess - and they're waiting there for me with this huge   
breakfast. Mom's dotin' on me, and Dad's asking me all these questions   
suddenly, where am I going, what am I going to do there, do I really   
think that's safe, and all that.  
  
No, you don't GET it! They always thought that I shouldn'ta been   
there. I was a mistake, I didn't belong. Just good for hard labor,   
that was it. Shayla, she was the one they were supposed to have. She   
was their real daughter, the precious, perfect one. She was the one   
who belonged, not me. But I was the one who survived. Without the   
cure, far as they knew. And Shayla, if she didn't make it even WITH   
the cure...  
  
They thought it was a fucking *sign*, don't you get it?! A *sign*!   
They thought Shayla was *supposed* to die! That she wasn't supposed to   
be born in the first place!   
  
They thought she was a mistake.  
  
So they were gonna erase her, simple as that. It was like there was no   
Shayla, all of a sudden. Never had been. Some drunken village kid   
coulda set up a rock in their field last night, for all they cared   
about it. It got blown off in that big storm a few years later, I   
heard. Nobody tried to replace it. I'm probably the only one who even   
remembers what it was for.  
  
An' even though they were payin' attention to me all of a sudden, they   
still weren't listening. I told 'em off six ways to the Desert of  
Bleached White Bones, and they just nodded and said, of course I was   
upset they'd been ignoring me for so long, not payin' me attention like   
they should - *should* - but they were very sorry and shouldn't I   
forgive them? Didn't matter how loud or angry I got, it never made any   
difference to 'em. They just weren't gonna listen.  
  
Finally one day I said, fine. I'll do what you want. I'll be your   
precious beloved daughter. Go ahead and give me everything I want.   
Really, I've even got some requests.  
  
Like I said, I wanted to go to the Seminary, become a Fire Priestess   
some day. Suddenly they were all for it. Petitioned the Order first   
thing. Used their sway as 'grieving parents' to get the community   
support they needed. By the end of the month, it was all set.  
  
Oh, yeah, they loved the idea. Their daughter going to the Seminary,   
becoming a Great Priestess. *Their* kid, their *real* kid, making them   
famous for just gettin' drunk enough to make her, some night. The   
whole world was gonna know about them, and how great they were to have   
raised me.  
  
Then the day before I left, I told them there was something else I was   
gonna do before I enrolled. They said, sure, of course, I could do   
whatever I wanted.   
  
I said I was changing my first name to Shayla.  
  
They couldn'ta been happier. It was like they were gonna be able to   
scratch out everything bad they ever did to me and replace it with   
everything they did for her. They'd always been Shayla's dutiful   
parents, y'see. Everyone knew that. An' everyone was *gonna* know   
that by the time I got famous, just like everyone was gonna know I was   
there because of *them*.  
  
They were practically dancing when I said, one more thing.  
  
I'm changing my last name, too.  
  
You shoulda seen the looks on their faces. Like a candle when you   
snuff it out. First time I smiled since Shayla died.  
  
Nope, nothing they could do about it. The transfer was set, and when   
the matron got there she wasn't gonna leave the house without me. They   
whined for a while, but that was it. Eventually they just shut up and   
didn't talk to me any more. Haven't since, and I like it just fine   
that way.  
  
So. That's the story, anyway.  
  
Look, c'mon, we better get this stuff hidden before one of the matrons   
comes by and-  
  
What? Whattayou mean? I told you the whole damn story, what else   
d'you need to know?  
  
Naw, it's not like that... Awright, fine, maybe I gave you more credit   
than you're worth. Yeah, the first name's to make sure people remember   
her. Nobody was gonna know what that stone was for, and everybody else   
they told to remember her, well, I don't put a lotta faith in that   
happening. But me, I can do a better job than any rock ever could.   
Some day, everybody's gonna know who I am. And as long as I'm out   
there, everybody's gonna remember her name.  
  
But it ain't that. People are gonna know me well enough to know me by   
my first name alone. The last name, that's something else.  
  
It's like I said. Your family's supposed to stick by you, care about   
you. Look out for you when nobody else does. They're supposed to love   
you. And my parents didn't do that.   
  
So it wasn't just to spite them or anything that I changed my last   
name. I changed it 'cause it didn't fit.  
  
I changed it 'cause it's my family name. And Shayla, she was my family.  
  
  
End  
  
---  
  
El-Hazard was created by Hiroki Hayashi and Ryoe Tsurimura and is the   
property of AIC and Pioneer Entertainment. 


End file.
